Pieces of Madness
by Fairygirl34
Summary: WWI AU. The pieces were almost in place and soon they would be back in his arms and a family again. Nothing has been the same since the death of his children but he and England will soon have them back. Forever and ever. FACE FAMILY. Warning: character deaths! Please Read and Review!


**Here's a one-shot that came to mind! Just want to see how receptive this story is.**

 **Warning: England and France will seem OOC! No obvious pairings but can be seen any way. And character deaths!**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own anything except the plot!**

* * *

The ash grey sky settled gloomly upon the city of London. Many parts of the city was in ruin, and the dirty looking people searched for scraps of food. The world seemed to be shown in a grey scale since the end of the Great War. Many nations were weakened or destroyed during the bloody time. And it showed.

France walked slowly along the streets. His once golden blonde hair and shining blue eyes, now dull and full of sorrow and pain. Everything about him had become just like the rest the world.

He had a noticeable limp but used a cane to help him along. A bag full of groceries in the other arm.

He sighed and soon made it to his destination. A large estate stood imposingly in front of him. Its disheveled state made it look haunted but he knew better. The large rusted front gate creaked as he pushed. Weeds, wildflowers and vines grew around the house, even growing onto the house.

France smiled sadly. The estate used to be very beautiful. It was still beautiful in a sorrowful kind of way.

France continued to the kitchen and set the groceries down. Without prompting, he began to prepare a meal. When finished he carefully set it upon the a cart and rolled it into an elevator that was once used by servants.

He stopped on the third floor and slowly made his way down the hallway. So many memories were made in this house but now they haunt around every corner like ghosts.

The nation made it to the master bedroom and knocked to alert the inhabitant. France opened the door to see a man with wild blonde hair and a slim silhouette laying in the king sized bed.

White wrappings covered his once vibrant green eyes. It appeared that England was alsleep and France quietly rolled the cart inside.

He ignored the two bassinets at the foot of the bed.

France sat near the sleeping Englishman and gently shook him. "Angleterre, wake up. I have made some food." he whispered.

England shifted and groaned in response. "France?" he slurred sleepily.

"Oui, Mon cher. I have made some food."

France helped England sit up and placed extra pillows behind to help. A tray with a plate of food and a cup of tea was placed upon England's lap. France gently guided England's hand over the food and drink, helping to memorize where everything was placed upon the tray.

The room was quiet and peaceful. France drew open the large curtains to only see a grey sky looming overhead.

A lot had changed since the Great War, and England was hit the hardest, physically and mentally. It was heartbreaking to see the once powerful British Empire reduced to a pitiful state.

"How are you feeling, Arthur?" France asked softly as he ran his fingers through England's hair.

"I'm fine. The boys have been very quiet today. I have finally been able to sleep."

France frowned in disapproval but said nothing. England just listened as France took the tray and moved the cart out of the way.

"How are my people?" The question is asked so softly, France thought he had imagined it.

"They are trying to survive day by day. But they are tough and durable, just like a certain nation that I know." France tried to keep his voice light and confident but he knew that England could feel his people suffering, dying and fighting just to make it to another day. Just like he could with his own.

England yawned which earned a chuckle from France and a large scowl in return. "Why don't you sleep? You still look very tired," France said soothingly. England yawned again and laid down. France was about head back to the kitchen when England called out.

"Please stay. Its lonely."

It was very out of character for England but France agreed and laid next to the Englishman. France soon found his own eyes growing tired and decided a short nap would do him good. The last thing he could see were the two bassinets.

* * *

 _It was chaos. Bullets, bombs and death surrounded the area. The trenches were muddy, full of diseases and dead bodies. A rifle was slung over his shoulder and he ducked his head low, hoping to make it past the flying bullets. They were literally in Hell._

 _France coughed as dirt flew into his eyes and lungs. He had to get to the others. It felt like hours before he made it to the other side of the trench._

 _France found England and his two sons, America and Canada ducking in cover. England was doing his best to shield the younger nations. They spotted him and their eyes filled with relief that he was alive._

 _Soon the sounds of gunshots, bombs and cries of fallen soldiers ceased altogether. Everyone waited with held breaths, hoping that the blood shed would stop today. Minutes passed and everyone slightly relaxed that the battle had stopped, for now at least._

 _The other three nations checked that France was alright and he in return checked to make sure none of them were badly hurt. The small family hugged and made their way to help pick up their fallen comrades._

 _Similar days continued to pass, both sides at a stalemate. But the family continued to protect each other and fight. Though the battles would forever be etched into their memories, America would lighten the mood with his obnoxious jokes and teasing and Canada would be the peace keeper._

 _It wasn't much but the simple_ _ **normal**_ _acts, helped keep their sanity intact._

 _Then a day that would forever haunt France and England until the end of time, ended it all._

 _It had started off with the twins looking like death. There skin had taken a deathly pale color and dark purple circles surrounded their baby blue eyes._

 _"Mon garcons, are you alright? Are you ill?"_

 _America had given him a weak smile and tried to look alive. "Don't worry France! Nothing can stop the Hero!"_

 _"Yeah. We're alright. Just got a little bug is all." Canada chimed in._

 _England had fussed over them like a mother hen. Maybe he should have told the boys to get checked out sooner, but both older nations had allowed America and Canada to continue fighting._

 _It just went down hill from there. They became weak and frail, coughing up blood and running high fevers. Their skin became cold and clammy and they were losing weight much to quickly._

 _When the doctor examined them, he had a grim look the entire time. France and England stood near the exit and wanting the man to hurry his examination._

 _The doctor stood and said the words no parent wants to hear about their children._

 _"I'm sorry. They don't have much longer to live. There's nothing I can do." With those words, he left the two older nations to stare at their dying children._

 _England brushed America's dull blonde hair then did the same for Canada. He gripped their hands in his own and did something he hadn't done much in front of others._

 _He cried._

 _He cried his heart out. Letting all the pent up emotions and stress out. France continued to stare blankly at America and Canada._

 _It wasn't possible. They couldn't die. They were nations. Immortal beings, not weak and fragile humans. They could make it out of this one._

 _The older nations from then on fought harder than they ever fought before. They needed to win against Germany._

 _Before Germany surrendered, he bombed and gassed the city of London and other major cities in the British Empire._

 _France had never seen England or any nation in that much pain. The screams of agony and the tears for the dead. It was almost to much to handle for the island nation._

 _England made it through, but lost the mobility in his legs and out for vengeance, they managed to defeat Germany and his allies._

 _The soldiers laughed and cried in happiness. The bloodiest war had ended._

 _But it was not to end happily for everyone. Before Germany signed the Treaty of Versailles, he unleased the bombs and deadly gases upon the countries of the United States and Canada. Instantly, killing millions._

 _Innocent civilians who had no idea of the horrors of the war. Killed from within. It was later found that Germany had managed to infiltrate the two large nations and destroyed them from inside._

 _He started off small, gassing and bombing with airplanes. When the countries were distracted by the attacks, they entered and executed their plan._

 _The day Germany surrendered, the day his children were murdered._

 _He remembers their cries of pain and agony and their blue eyes filling with tears. They couldn't even recognize their own parents in their delirium._

 _Blood. So much blood came from their mouths, almost choking them._

 _And he and England could do nothing but watch. Watch and try to ease their children's pain as much as possible._

 _America and Canada looked like living skeletons, life filled eyes now hollow and dead._

 _With one last look, they struggled to smile and choked out their last words._

 _"We...love...you..."_

 _It ended. Everything had ended._

 _The war._

 _The fighting._

 _Their children._

 _England's cries and screams of denial echoed all around._

 _"Nononono! No! Alfred! Matthew! My babies!"_

* * *

France woke up to the sound of England screaming and thrashing about.

"America! Canada! Nonononono! My babies! Give me my babies! They need me! Give them to me!"

France reacted instantly.

"Arthur! Arthur! Wake up! Wake up!" France struggled to hold the small man but England continued to struggle.

"They're crying! Give them to me! My babies! My babies! They're bleeding! I have to help them!" England escaped France's hold, knocking him far away and tumbled out of bed. Tears ran through the bandages and soon he began to claw at his own eyes.

"They're bleeding! And I'm just watching! I can't watch! Help! They need help! Alfred! Matthew!"

The bandages came off, nails digging and clawing, causing England's eyes to bleed and redden.

"Francis! My babies! Where are my babies?! There bleeding! So much blood. And crying. They need me!"

Tears mixed with blood. France struggled to grab the first aid kit off the dresser and limped to the fallen nation.

"Its alright mon cher. Its alright." France soothed while removing England's hands from continuing to claw his own eyes out.

"My babies. My babies." England said in a half crazed state. France took the moment to quickly clean the new wounds and re-wrap his eyes.

"My babies. My sons, they need me. Where are they? Where are they?"

When France finished, he gingerly helped England back into bed. The nation continued to ask for his children.

"They're crying Francis. Please they're crying. They need me. I can't let them die. I won't let it happen!"

England crawled from his spot and made his way to the bassinets at the foot of the bed. Though his legs no longer worked, England moved as fast as he could until he could feel the beds underneath his fingertips.

He ruffly grabbed something from each small bed and cradled it close and began to rock back and forth, mumbling to himself.

"There there, my darlings. You're safe. Daddy's got you."

France clenched his fists but managed to ease the Englishman back into his spot.

England's fingers were still caked in half dried blood from his previous fit. The blood smeared onto the objects in his hands. France stared at the things in his arms.

Babies. Small fragile babies.

They wore the little white gowns that once belonged to his children.

France glared at the _things_ in England's hands. Those weren't their children, they were merely replacements. But they could never replace America and Canada.

But he would let the Englishman hold them just for his sanity.

"Mon cher, I am going down to the kitchen. Make sure you get plenty of rest."

England continued to mumble to himself and France lead himself out. He gazed upon all the portraits along the hallway. Thick layers of dust had settled all around the house.

He washed the used dishes then proceeded to the library. He went to his favorite chair by a large window and picked up his book he had been reading.

 _Dark Arts: Human Transmutation_

When France entered the bedroom later, he found England sleeping and cradling the two small infants.

It was late afternoon, at least that was what the small clock upon the mantle said. France prepared the tea and the sweet aroma awoke the sleeping nation.

"Francis? Is the tea almost ready?"

"Oui."

France took a small vile from his pocket and poured a few drops into England's tea cup. He handed the cup to the awaiting man.

England breathed in the sweet smell and took a much needed drink.

"Mmmm. Thank you Francis." And gave the Frenchman a small smile. France took the cup away and as he was turned away, England started choking.

"Fran...cis..."

France smiled wistfully, moved closer to the choking Englishman and cradled his face in his hands. "Don't worry Mon Cher. Its just some medicine to help you sleep." France cooed.

"It...hurts...Francis." England wheezed out. His lungs felt like they were on fire and England struggled to get air into his lungs.

France was getting impatient, so he took matters into his own hands, literally. He moved his hands down from England's face to his neck. And strangled him.

He blocked all the air from the smaller nation's lungs and minutes later, England had ceased any movement and breathing. France let go and placed England comfortably upon his bed. Making sure he was covered and warm.

It almost looked like England was just sleeping peacefully. France knew he would revive in a couple of hours and that was all the time that he needed.

He gave a kiss to the dead Englishman's forehead then grabbed the infants into his own arms.

He made his way to the backyard where a large mausoleum stood by itself in a corner of the garden. Large red rose bushes surrounded it.

France opened the heavy door and walked down a flight of stairs. The stairs lead underground where two adult sized coffins lay in the middle.

And near the coffins were large pile of bodies, male and female, old and young, though a majority were male infants. Usually twins.

France looked at the infants in his arms.

However, they didn't make any moves or sounds, not even a breath as he placed them among the large pile of bodies. In fact, they were dead as well. The bittersweet smell of rotting flesh was strong but France paid it no mind.

He checked the large white chalk circle upon the ground and made sure that it was still perfect for future purposes.

Chains rattled to the side of him and France smirked sadistically and headed to his two prisoners. They were dirty and slightly malnourished.

"Bonjour. Germany. Prussia."

Both glared hatefully, making him chuckle darkly. "I'm very pleased that you two are still alive. It would be unfortunate if you died. You are still needed."

"Bastard." Prussia growled.

Germany said nothing but if looks could kill, France would have died a million times over. France moved away and headed towards the coffins. Where his treasures were peacefully resting.

"Why are you doing this?" Germany coldly asked. "Why do you need us? And what do you hope to accomplish?"

France slowly circled the two coffins and trailed his fingers over them before speaking. "America and Canada used to love when I sang to them in French. They always wanted one more song before bed or another story."

The two German brothers watched France suspiciously as he continued.

"Let's just say...that America and Canada will be coming... _back_ very soon."

Prussia narrowed his eyes. "What do you mean!? They're dead!"

"They're NOT dead! My children will live once again! And Arthur and I will be happy! We'll be a family again and NO ONE will get in our way of happiness!" France said crazily.

Without another word, France left the tomb, leaving the German brothers with more questions than answers. France headed to the poorest part of the city.

Many people homeless and looking hallow. The nation ignored all of them and headed to a workhouse. The owner saw France and met him half way.

Everyone watched the nation pass by. France was obviously a wealthy man by his clothes and all the children wondered what he was doing there.

"Bonjour. I came to pick up my delivery."

"Name?" A large over weight man said gruffly.

France smirked. "Francis Bonnefoy."

The man's eyes widened and quickly motioned the nation to follow him.

"We were wondering when you would come sir."

They entered to a back room and a two young toddlers looked up to the adults. They had blonde hair and blue eyes similar to America and Canada and France knew that they were perfect.

The preparations were almost complete.

"Here. The address for my other delivery to be dropped off. And a little extra to make sure no one finds out."

The large man smiled slyly. "Of course."

Gently, France picked the children up. They squirmed in his arms, unsure of the adult holding them.

"Bonjour. You are coming to live with me now." France cooed. The toddlers didn't say anything but eventually stopped fidgeting. France smiled and proceeded to head back home. England would be awaking soon.

* * *

As France headed up the stairs to England's room, he heard crying. He found the Englishman with his head on his knees, quiet sobs escaping from his trembling body.

"Arthur? What's wrong?"

"There gone. There gone Francis. My sons are gone. Never to come back." England mumbled.

France put the confused children near the bed and went to comfort England. "There there Arthur. Alfred and Matthew will come back home soon. Its almost time, until then I have brought you two more vessels to fill with your love for our boys."

England move his head up, tears staining the bandages and his cheeks. He sniffed and desperately grabbed onto France's coat.

"Do you mean it? They'll come back to us?" Desperation and hope filled his voice. "A-and we'll be a family again?"

"Oui. We'll be a family. Happy forever and ever."

France went to the awaiting toddlers and placed them in England's arms, where he showered them with love and affection.

After all, they were the last piece to bring his children back. Every death and body was necessary.

The children looked at the adults with their innocent blue eyes. Never aware of their futures, as many sacrifices do not until the last minute.

France smiled as he thought of his children being in his arms once again. He left England with the children.

After all, the dead just don't come back on their own.

* * *

 **I hope this made some sort of sense. So if it was too hard to understand, England and France have gone crazy over the death of America and Canada. And France is trying to bring them back and sacrificing Germany and Prussia along with people. Hopefully it was easy to understand.**

 **Still working on my other stories! Maybe I'll continue this later if people like this though its meant to be a one-shot.**

 **PLEASE REVIEW! They inspire me!**


End file.
